


A Kinder Patricide

by Dragoniped



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Dick Simmons-centric, Gen, Mentioned Lopez (Red vs. Blue), Mentioned Sarge (Red vs. Blue), Trans Dick Simmons, Trans Male Character, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-02-01 07:24:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21437080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragoniped/pseuds/Dragoniped
Summary: After an unexpected (read: unwanted) surprise, Simmons gets a chance to properly reflect on his views of family as well as just who is (and more importantly who isn't) in it.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 26





	A Kinder Patricide

"Of course I'm not surprised,"

Simmons hated this.

"I always taught good values."

He wished he could punch the asshole through the small screen he was watching this on.

"I always knew my child was capable of great things."

A loud crash echoed through the room, completely covered by the frustrated scream that accompanied him throwing the tablet at the TV. They both broke (Grif would complain); he'd care later (nobody had to know).

A turned over sofa and thrown table were the best Simmons could do towards trashing the room and alleviating some of the noise in his head from all this pent up anger.

How could he say things like that? Act like he cared and _ he _was the one who made Simmons how he was? Act like he was anything but a negative drain on his child's life?

If this had been a few years back, when he was less confident in himself and desperate for any sort of approval and a chance to prove himself, he would have been overjoyed - might have even _ cried _ at hearing his father say the words he'd dreamt of him saying for as long as he could remember. But now? Now he was _ furious. _

He got here by himself - no, not alone. He reached this point in his life because of his team, his friends, his _ family. _ This wasn't the forever crushing presence of his blood relatives but his found family. The family who, against all odds, stayed together to help each other and those around them. _ This _is the family he would trust his life to and be willing to give it for, often had. Blood of the covenant and all that.

For his piece of shit father to go on TV and boast about Simmons, felt like a direct attack on his very person. He was only using it as a chance to brag about himself and how great he was, it was always about himself.

Simmons hadn't been good enough growing up, couldn't meet his father's expectations again and again but, now that he'd stepped out of his father's shadow and done things for himself, his father wanted to take all the credit.

Ordinarily, something like this wouldn't bother him - or he would like to think so anyway. Having it here, now, he _ hated _it.

If his father hadn't forced his own decisions on Simmons, hadn't ruined his confidence and friendships before walking out and basically disowning him when he couldn't meet those expectations. If he had been a decent father - Simmons was past the point of not thinking he was a decent child.

Many a late-night conversation with Grif, ending with quiet tears and unspoken promises to pretend it never happened (it was their way after all), had led to a number of revelations and a new type of acceptance for Simmons. He wasn't bad, he did the best he could - Grif claims it's better than he would've done in that situation but Simmons disagreed, and most importantly his father was the one in the wrong. That realisation had been the biggest weight off his shoulders and the weakness it brought with it was- He didn't even want to think about it. Not now, not when he was this riled up.

He let out another loud scream, throwing a punch at the wall and easily embedding his arm into it. Cybernetic parts were strong and times like this reminded him that he was too.

"Simmons?" The voice was coming from his side, only a short distance away and he didn't have to look to know who it was.

"Hi Grif.." He removed his arm slowly as if doing so would somehow erase any evidence of the damage he did.

"You okay bud? It looks like you went on a rampage." Grif looked worried, it would be weird if he wasn't, but Simmons was having a hard time getting this anger to dissipate.

"No." Simmons didn't want to admit it but it would be stupid to lie. "My dad…" He added by way of explanation.

"Oh," Grif looked down the corridor then into the room before properly walking in and closing the door behind him. "Want to talk about it?"

His hands were still in tight fists, though the overwhelming urge to scream was beginning to fade - Grif seemed to have that effect on him. "No. Maybe? I don't know."

Simmons sat down on the arm of the upturned chair, arms crossing immediately over his chest.

"Okay, gonna tell me what happened at least?"

He sighed, but began to explain.

* * *

Simmons didn't expect this, he wasn't prepared; ranting was one thing but his threats were very much empty.

He had been so sure before but a journey this long was enough to replace the anger with anxiety, questions now assaulting his mind where complaints were before.

"Is it too late to back out?" The question was quiet so Sarge wouldn't hear, the man having insisted on tagging along for reasons unknown and bringing Lopez with him. (Donut was quite happily left in the Blues care which nobody objected to).

"Yep." Grif replied back through a handful of chips, he at least had the decency to match the volume.

Simmons knocked him with his knee, not seeing the need to tell him to stop shovelling food into his mouth for a thousandth time. Grif responded by elbowing him back, not slowing at all. Fatass.

At least with Lopez driving and Sarge riding shotgun, the two got the back of the jeep to themselves. This gave Simmons ample distractions and ample snacks for the entire journey, Grif only tending to fall silent when stuffing large amounts of food into his mouth - which didn't happen nearly as often as it usually did.

Somehow the journey managed to be the perfect amount of too long and too short, falling into some non-existent space outside of the dichotomy. He wanted it to be longer so he could avoid what was going to happen but the journey had already allowed his anxieties to wear away at his resolve leaving him nervous and tense.

"We're here." Sarge announced as though the jeep parking beside a building wasn't enough of a clue. Lopez had probably said the same thing earlier but in car rides he tended to be ignored as much as the sat nav.

"You guys should stay in the car, I can do this alone." The voice in his head was telling him he had to, who was he to argue with the same voice that told him to throw the table?

Grif nodded slowly, crushing the last of the chips into a powder before pouring it into his mouth (Simmons kept telling him to stop doing this; Grif argued it was efficient). "We're here if you need us."

That was as much of a cue as he'd get so Simmons took it, jumping out of the jeep and heading over to the door. He automatically went to knock with his left hand before wincing at his robot arm and switching to his natural one - it was as much a part of him as the rest of his body but this wasn't the time or place.

He knocked. He waited.

Mentally, Simmons was running through 15 scenarios of how badly this would go but he remained stubbornly rooted to the spot, refusing to let fight or flight control this interaction.

The door opened.

"Yes?" His father's voice was curt as ever but the look of mild annoyance was replaced with one of surprise at the sight in front of him.

Simmons hadn't seen his father since joining the military (ignoring that clip from TV that he definitely hadn't rewatched) and he knew his father hadn't done the same - pictures of the group were always done in armour.

Nonetheless, neither had to guess who was standing in front of them.

"Amanda?" If his team hadn't seen the wince before he knocked, they definitely saw the full body cringe that accompanied that single word.

"I go by Richard now, you know that." It physically hurt to correct him but Simmons was proud enough to not back down, even if it had been years. His father evidently ignored him.

"What have you done to yourself, look at your face and your arm." He reached out as if going to cup his cheek, almost as though he wanted to inspect it. Simmons immediately pulled back.

"I was in a war, casualties happen." It wasn't important to point out that he wasn't the casualty but the resulting organ (and limb) donor. He wasn't self conscious of the parts, not anymore, but he still found himself tugging down the sleeves of his maroon turtleneck (the colours were as much theirs as their names by now).

"You should never have enlisted, if you'd come to me-"

"You wouldn't have given me the time!" Simmons shouted over the top of him, cutting off his father for the first time in his life. The anxiety bubbling up from the action only fueled the growing torrent of anger but he managed to calm down enough to return to a normal volume. “You basically disowned me.” An underlying pain came with the words, leaving a bitter taste in Simmons mouth.

“You’re my child, I never turned my back on you. I just gave you tough love and clearly it’s what you needed because you finally made something of yourself.” His father spoke so bluntly, seeing no issue in his past actions.

“Finally made something of myself? I might not have excelled where you wanted me to but I still achieved things and learnt so much, even before you decided I was _ finally _good enough to be your child again.” Simmons wasn’t backing down this time, volume beginning to raise once more as he stepped forward into his father's space.

“You were always my child, you’re my precious daughter-” The blunt tone took on more of a placating edge but it only came across as patronizing - as though Simmons was being irrational.

“_ Son _.” His voice cracked on the syllable, “I’m your son, No-, I’m not.” He shook his head slowly, letting out a shaky breath.

“Are you finally finished with this ridiculous nonsense?”

“No nonsense, you’re just not my father anymore.” Simmons saw his father go to interrupt and ignored the attempt, talking over him. “You don’t get to pick and choose family based on how they meet your expectations and you definitely don’t get to throw me away then act like I’ll come back as soon as you’ve changed your mind - I’m worth more than that. I have a family that actually cares for me, a family that’s better than you, and they’re all I need. So before you go preaching about your amazing parenting skills, remember this: _ I disown you. _”

He didn’t wait for a reply, turning around and walking back to the jeep - his father left fumbling over his words in the doorway.

“Amanda?” Simmons continued to ignore him, climbing in beside Grif. “Richard?”

“Thanks for finally learning my name but it’s too little too late.” He flipped his sperm donor the bird, Grif joining in as Lopez started the engine. 

His grin didn’t drop for the whole journey but if he was shaking slightly, nobody commented.

**Author's Note:**

> Alternative title: "No, I'm disowning you."


End file.
